


here comes the anxiety

by roserade



Category: K-On!
Genre: F/F, Female Friendship, Friendship/Love, Romance, musical girlfriends yassss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-09 20:43:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3263753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roserade/pseuds/roserade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She thinks of late night memorisations and nervous kisses—feels her face getting warmer—and hopes that it would go unnoticed behind the large ham that is Tsukasa's Mercutio." — Mio/Ritsu</p>
            </blockquote>





	here comes the anxiety

Her hands shift impatiently over her crinkled copy of the script, fingers drumming on creases caused by a combination of exhaustion and misplaced belongings. She looks across and sees Mio clutching her own copy; _her_ fingers are long and slim, resting on impeccably crisp pages, and Ritsu notices the fingers of Mio’s left hand idly flicking the corners of post-it-marked scenes in a four part dotted rhythm that matches her own. She feels a slight twinge of embarrassment at her slipshod dog-eared pages, the fibre sticking out at the edges where her thumb has contended against, but the feeling is quick to dissipate when Mio glances back at her and Ritsu has the uncharacteristic instinct to look away.

She should probably do something, give a smile, a thumbs-up, _anything_ , but Mio is looking at her with that look in her eyes, and Ritsu is vaguely aware that her breathing—getting shorter by the second—is only paralleled by the visible flush on Mio’s cheeks that might as well be her own. She thinks of late night memorisations and nervous kisses—feels her face getting warmer—and hopes that it would go unnoticed behind the large ham that is Tsukasa’s Mercutio.

There is the dim thought that Mio looks nice with her hair tied up like that. The bangs that frame her face fall over her eyes when she looks down to check her lines before she has to speak again. Her Romeo gives a shaky cut-off to the bawdy speech of some sorts; her delivery is far from the intended air of bravado or wistful longing that the young Montague would have been portrayed with, and the flowery prose still leaves Ritsu’s back feeling itchy as usual, never mind that she probably has heard it enough times to say it herself.

“... of a despised life closed in my breast by s-some vile forfeit of untimely death...”

The thin layer of confidence cracks as Mio just barely stumbles over her words. She is glancing down once again at the script to make sure, but two locks of hair get caught between her lips as she stammers through her remaining lines and Ritsu has the urge to reach out and brush the offending strands away from her face.

 

* * *

 

When Ritsu kisses her, Mio thinks she ought to feel surprised.           

Their first time is not without clashing teeth and gasping breaths, for Ritsu is just as nervous as she is and Mio is unsure where to place her hands, one hand grasping at the hem of her skirt and the other on Ritsu’s waist. There is a series of clumsy tugs at the lapel of her school jacket as Ritsu shifts closer to her, only to have their foreheads bump against each other’s and Mio almost bites her tongue.

“Ah, sorry,” Ritsu murmurs as they break away from the kiss. The wavering tone of her voice catches Mio off guard, because this is Ritsu, and Mio is not used to blushing apologies from her.

“N... no, it’s okay,” she starts, “We...” 

She lets the sentence hang there, barely formed, instead opting to concentrate on the ruffled pleats of her skirt. Ritsu still has one hand lingering on her jacket collar, and Mio makes out mountain crags and crevices in the folds of bunched-up fabric around where her hand had been earlier.

The uncertainty that she feels is not all that unwelcomed. The air seems to crackle with a stillness that threatens to cloud what little left of her thoughts, only rivalled by the thumping in her chest—a feeling so banal, so _expected_ of the situation, yet Mio knows that this is what she has hoped for in dreams of fairytales and faraway kingdoms.

“C... can I try again?” She hears Ritsu ask, and when Mio looks up, the other girl’s eyes (bright, intent) meet her own and she can barely make out her own reflection in them.


End file.
